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2010-03-26 - Dead Flowers
The Hyaku Shiki is locked down in the mobile suit bay. Quattro has come alone. This is tantamount to suicide, but outside of Axis is the mighty Argama and a half dozen Salamis Kai cruisers. They undoubtedly carry the finest pilots the AEUG has to offer-- pilots that were once members of Zeon, who defected with Char years ago. The red-clad ace is guided through the twisting, curved hallways of the asteroid-base at gunpoint. After his previous adventures here, the guard is up to ten. He does not seem to mind. Quattro enters the third formal dining area, designed for a party of eight to sixteen guests. It is likely the smallest Axis has. He begins to take a seat, but one of the guards already inside the room gestures toward a door on the other side. Quattro rises and follows down a more narrow service hallway, twisting deeper into the asteroid. When the next door appears, it opens-- and the captain steps out from a previously smooth part of the wall. He glances over his shoulder as the secret portal closes, leaving him in a much smaller area. The hidden dining area of Zeon, like any area where Haman Karn is given to conduct important business (or important leisure), is opulent to a fairly disgusting degree. Several chairs surround a long table -- Haman Karn sits at one end, patiently waiting. Her Newtype Aura thrums and buzzes. It's like straying too near an amplifier in a chill-out tent. "Right on time," the Regent of Zeon says with a smile, and stands up to greet her guest. Her dress is mostly layers of black lace, and fairly form-fitting. The lighting of the room is dim enough that some debate can be forded as to whether or not she wears anything underneath. She looks like some sort of vampiric spider queen. But in a dangerously alluring sort of way. "Welcome, Captain Bajeena," Haman says, her smile small and wry. "Or when we're alone, can I call you by your /true/ name?" Haman's eyes glitter in the candlelight of the table. The food has not yet arrived. Perhaps it's all been waiting on him. "Please, take a seat. Princess Mineva was quite disappointed that she would not get the chance to entertain you -- but at her age, and with her studies and responsibilities, reasonable bedtimes are /quite/ important." If the Zeon spy networks are to be believed, Captain Quattro spends most of his shore leave in bars watching the news while drinking. He occasionally visits whorehouses about once every three refueling leaves. Recently he has been stopping the latter and drinking more. It is unsurprising that such an uncouth man would dare to show up in casual clothing. Quattro takes a seat opposite of Haman, tossing his glasses off for the first time in the regent's presence. He hasn't changed much. The hair, sure, is longer... it's still him. "I think we've known each other long enough to dispense with such games, Haman." His glasses clank against the wall and then onto the floor. "And I think you know that." Haman Karn can't help but bite a fingertip and grin around it as Quattro chastizes her. The more things change, the more they indeed stay the same. There's still something cold and severe about Haman Karn. But alone in the presence of Char Aznable, some of that fifteen-year-old psychopath he once knew begins to shine through. "Of course," the Regent says, before sitting down herself. There's a pleased lilt to her tone, as if the game is still afoot, and one she happens to be having quite a lot of fun playing. "I hope you enjoy steak, then... Captain Bajeena. Our resources on Axis are limited -- can you imagine the logistics of keeping livestock here? So we've developed more ingenuous ways of attaining meat. I think we've rather improved on evolution, if I do say so myself." As if on cue, two covered dishes are wheeled out by a pair of Purus. Having Purus serve genetically engineered steak is probably an irony lost of Haman. But. Maybe not. The Purus -- wearing little uniforms and everything -- uncover the dishes and set the meals before the two diners. Haman's goblet -- she drinks from a goblet -- is filled with sweet, dark wine. Quattro Bajeena, meanwhile, is given a tumbler with a few ice cubes in it, and poured a glass of pre-OYW-vintage Zeonic Space Whiskey. "That will be quite enough, girls," Haman Karn says, shooing the Purus away. They're adults. They can pour their own drinks. Haman Karn doesn't eat yet, though. She's sitting across the table, small smile forming on her face... /watching/ Quattro. Watching Captain Char. Quattro does not seem concerned with Haman for the moment. He watches the Purus enter, aware of their reputation but having little contact with the actual project. He has seen similar efforts amongst the Earth Sphere, but nothing as advanced as this. His fingers drum, irritated, on the tabletop. "A war station like this must not have room for external farming pods," he agrees. The implication that Axis is only for destruction may be taken as a compliment. Char raises the lowball glass to his lips, unafraid of poison. He'd love to be poisoned. They'd all die and that would be the end of this the horrors of Zeon. Sadly, he does not feel any immediate burning in his veins. It's almost pleasing. "Why did you call me here?" Char can feel the pressure, only vaguely. He is not an exceptional newtype. His blessing is the skill with which he uses the gifts of space, not the extent with which space has blessed him. It is contemptible. "A woman like you always has her purposes." As Char drinks, Haman is careful to do so as well. After all, they say that's how you can tell you're in sync with someone -- when you're pausing to drink at the same time. It doesn't work if you're doing it on purpose, but Haman Karn doesn't care. She'll /make/ it work. "Captain Bajeena," Haman Karn says, her smile spreading. It's almost unnerving to see Haman Karn smile. She's still a young woman by anyone's definition (except, perhaps, Mineva's). But smiles don't really suit her anymore. Not like years ago. Not like when her hair was longer, her skirts shorter, her enthusiasm... ...well, her enthusiasm was probably still misdirected. "I wanted to keep the lines of communication regarding our... arrangement open, Captain Bajeena." Haman Karn begins to cut her steak -- and motions for Char to do the same, gently. It'd be a shame to waste it. "Even on such a small scale as it is... it cannot succeed as even a shadow of a partnership if we don't communicate." The 'we' in that sentence is probably not 'Neo Zeon and the AEUG.' For that matter, the 'partnership' is probably not that, either. "I'm eager to hear your thoughts, Captain Bajeena." Haman Karn spears a carefully cut square of steak with her fork. "As you know, I've always respected your opinion." Haman is a bit easy to read when her guard is down. Her guard is definitively down. She's got more she wants to talk about. She's just not saying it. Considering Char is dealing with straight liquor, Haman is still on the ropes. The bottle politely left by the Puru-maids is used. He, like ancient drunken masters, must keep his glass full at all times. The AEUG leader is silent as he cuts into his steak. There might be a rush of her order being received, but that Char is so nonresponsive is... nostalgic. If he likes the steak he doesn't show it. At least he isn't gagging. "I think we're both clear on the limits of our agreement. Every day I have to explain to Katharon soldiers the limits of our agreement. We're here to protect space." Char suddenly stabs his fork into the steak. He leaves it there while he takes a long drink, not even savoring the vintage anymore. "I think we're far past playing games. How long have we known each other, Haman? How much have we gone through? You shot me. I want you to say what you want to say." Haman Karn is breezing along through her meal happily until Char stabs his food. This doesn't get a jump or even a twitch out of Haman -- instead, the Regent simply looks over with one arched eyebrow, as if to silently question Char's logic. It's not hard to imagine her giving Mineva this look if the Princess ever talked with her mouth full. Which, hopefully, the Princess would never do, because consider her station and all. Haman's smile fades. She has a long sip of wine, herself. She takes her sweet time -- dabbing her lips gently with the corner of a napkin, the portrait of ladylike manners. Even at her brattiest, Haman was never low-class. "You've resigned your seat in the Senate," Haman notes, casually. "You've been mobilizing the AEUG independent of the Katharon organization. You've been making your own decisions. Being your own man. Being the man who so impressed me when he first arrived here." Haman Karn doesn't even comment on that fact that she did indeed shoot him. It wouldn't suit the moment. Instead, the Regent leans forward, looking directly into Char's eyes. Her Newtype Aura is like a wave of heat rolling through the room. "Captain Char." "Don't you think it's time you came home?" "Would you be willing to give control to me? Would you be willing for Casval Rem Deikun to take over everything you've worked to maintain?" Char says this aggressively, clearly not meaning it. Someone like him is a person who thrives in the background. He's never shown himself to be anything different. "I'm doing with the AEUG what Katharon cannot. I think you can appreciate something like that. If I 'came home,' your empire would be threatened." Char pushes his plate away. "I don't want that. I want you to be comfortable, so you can help me be comfortable. Together we can both achieve what we want." The glass is still in his hand. He is refilling it again. "When you were younger, I didn't know what to make of you. You seemed immature and mature at the same time. Now, you're leading an empire with enough sustainability to even shame Gihren. Look at how you've grown." "Oh, Captain Char." Haman Karn's smile very slightly returns. She, too, seems to have lost interest in her food, but she also neglects her wine. She stays canted forward in a lavish physical display of attention. "You say the sweetest things." Haman glances down at her plate, before also pushing it forward. So much for the Purus' hard work at making the meal perfect. The Regent's gaze floats back toward Char serenely. "My people need a figurehead they can rally behind properly, Captain Char. While Mineva is the last of the Zabis... she's nowhere near ready to be that. And I've had the most woeful time balancing being a leader and being a symbol. So I need someone who can take up that role. To be at the front of the front lines. To crush enemies under their foot and show the rest of the troops how it's done. If not you, then I'll find someone else. Full Frontal, perhaps. Johnny Ridden, if he ever gets his edge back?" Haman Karn lets herself drift off into a thoughtful pause. Her gaze moves off to some point on the ceiling, to Char's left. Intentionally looking away and making sure it's noticed. "With the right inspiration, that Ashta boy..." "A puppet, then?" Char swirls his tumbler in his hand. The ice has melted and there's nothing but liquid. The Purus neglected to leave a shaker of ice. Something to punish them for later. "We both know how that will turn out." The captain sits up, pressing the table forward slightly as he leans against it. The last of his most recent glass is gone in a second. "There'd be civil war. You know I'm not only capable of that, but that it's inevitable. Then again, isn't that what you always liked about me?" Char presses further. "About Judau, too." "A puppet? You wound me, Captain Char, with such oversimplification." Haman Karn actually does look a bit put out. The leader of Neo Zeon -- the real leader, anyway, even if it's a certain Zabi on paper -- leans back in her seat, frowning and folding her arms. For a moment, she looks far too similar to way back when. Just a moment, though. It's there and then it's gone. "Despite what you might think... I do believe that sometimes, humanity's past is worthy of notice." Haman Karn uncrosses her arms, resting her hands on the armrests of her hair. "There are certain things that have been encoded into humanity's consciousness that are worth keeping. Language. Love. War. But even more specific concepts... Captain Char, what did a knight have in the Dark Ages, when he went to slay a dragon?" It doesn't seem to matter that dragons aren't real. The dragon clearly isn't meant to be taken as a dragon, anyway. "I have my armor, Captain Char. And I have my shield." Haman lifts one hand when she says that. She lifts the other when she says this: "Now I just need my sword." Char, already standing, begins to walk around the table. His vest shifts. He has a gun tucked into a holster on his side. He does not reach for it. "I can't be just a sword." The captain presses his hand onto the edge of the table nearest to Haman. The gun is still showing. How did the guards miss it? "I have to take everything. If you don't think I'm still like that, then it's you who wound me." "So, Haman, what are we going to do about Zeon, then?" Char grips the edge of the table, threatening and familiar. He leaned over Mahajara Karn's bed like this when he was giving his last commands. He leaned over Natalie Bianchi's coffin like this when they were about to commit her to the asteroid belt. Haman Karn, too, stands. She's not fazed by the gun -- frankly, she'd be surprised if Char /wasn't/ packing. If he shot her dead... well. Risks must be taken. She glides over toward the blonde ace, beginning to hover dangerously close. "What are /we/ going to do?" Haman's laugh is soft, slight, and brief. She lingers at Char's side, so close to touching. "Captain Char, I know you quite well. What you do, Captain Char... is you take. And you take, and take, and take. Until no one can offer you anymore. Until you go where there's more for you to claim. Because you're like me, Captain Char. You'll never be satisfied. It'll never be enough." Haman Karn's hand reaches out to touch the bared shoulder of the AEUG leader. Her palm is warm. Her skin is soft. Her grip is delicate. "What I'm going to do... is find that sword. And restore Neo Zeon to its rightful place. So that when you do come to your senses... when you do decide to come home... there will be a home worthy of you." Haman's other hand rises. It cups Char's cheek, turning his head toward her. She leans in, closing her eyes. "A home that's yours for the taking. You have to take everything, as you just said..." Haman's breath can be felt on Char's lips. That's how close she is. That's how absolutely perilously close. "Captain Char... I'd let you take... everything." "I guess you're right, Haman," Char replies. His face is a frozen mask. There is no apparent emotion. Haman is close but he does not flinch. "No matter where I go, I always find myself in the cockpit of a mobile suit. I always find myself commanding men. I left Axis, and people left with me. It's my fate. If you offered me my father's empire..." Char presses down on Haman, a hand on her shoulder, his other arm pushing them away from the table in the low gravity. His body forces her to the floor. He kisses her forcefully, not romancing her but instead slaking his lust. One of his hands fumbles with her needlessly complicated spider-queen dress. He is not succeeding. "...I'd take it all!" he breathes. When she was a teenager, Haman Karn ran through this scenario in her head more times than would really be polite to mention. It was never quite the same each time, but there was a solid enough throughline. Captain Char would come to her. Possibly in her quarters. Possibly somewhere else. Either way, he'd take the lead. Char would take Haman by the hand and lead her off. Sometimes, he'd carry her, like a groom carrying his bride, a loving and supportive grip. They'd kiss and it'd last forever. He'd gracefully segue into foreplay. Captain Char wouldn't be one of those mawkish, inexperienced /boys/. Bra unhooked on the first try. And so on -- the picture should be clear enough in fading to black there. This isn't that. This is rough and raw and probably not dissimilar to the way Char treats his whores. If there's a part of Haman Karn that's trying to inform her that this isn't how it was supposed to be, the rest of her is not just silencing that part, but taking it out behind the Newtype shed and shooting it. Haman Karn doesn't care how it happens anymore. She doesn't care about anything other than /having/. And the one thing she could never have is now having his way with her. Haman kisses back with the same desperate passion. Romance is barely a concern, if at all. Her hands can't settle down, can't pick a spot to hold. When Char's distress with her garment becomes evident, Haman reaches down and pulls on a lacy ribbon resembling a belt. The whole thing seems to come apart, loosening and billowing in the low-g. A bare leg slides up to lock around the back of the Red Comet's legs. Pulling him in closer. "I'm not offering you your father's empire," Haman whispers back. "I'm offering you /mine/." Char stops-- he reflexively glances down, expecting a gun to be pulled. When Haman only reveals the cunning construction of her dress, he laughs. It is, at least, friendly. The Red Comet picks Haman off the floor. In a stunning turn of memory, he kicks the wall nearby, jostling her in the process but not greatly. The secret door slides open to another thin hallway, one that leads directly to a state room. Zeon spies have used this on more than a few occasions when Federation diplomats were present. In the low gravity of Axis, he can carry her in one arm. "Your empire? Ha ha. Look at the woman you've become, Haman." Char stops near the bed, letting go of the regent of Zeon so she can glide toward the sheets. He unbuttons his shirt. "Just look." Haman Karn's pale face is flush. She breathes heavily. Her body is almost unconscionably warm against Char's when he carries her. The issue of what she was wearing underneath the dress is, indeed, satisfactorily resolved. As she drifts toward the bed, Haman looks back at the Red Comet. "I know who I am, Captain Char," she says. Her voice comes from somewhere deep within, some primal muscle long thought atrophied. "I'm the woman you made me," Haman Karn says as she slowly begins to remove her dress. "Now finish what you started." Category:Logs